Case 10: Our Little Secret
by Rudolphsd
Summary: Post Mystery Room. A case involving a silver chalice, a motorcycle, and the most dangerous water gun ever. Lucifendi if you squint, but it's up to you. Borderline M for violence. Also, drug use. Oneshot.


**Anybody else notice at the end of Mystery Room, he changes from Placid to Potty regularly, without all the grandeur? I feel like he's becoming more accustomed to having one body for two personalities. When (not if) Level Five makes a sequel, I think both sides of him will have about the same screen time.**

**Oh yeah, and there's going to be some blood. A little gore, plus some drug use. You've been warned.**

When Alfendi Layton and Lucy Baker accepted the case, they had no idea what they were getting into.

The Commissioner himself gave the case to the Mystery Room pair while they were wrapping up a vicious murder with a silver chalice as the weapon.

"This is a tough nut," he warned them. "Although it's only been around the office for an hour, most of the officers already denied it. Do you think you guys can handle it?"

Al's hair turned red. "Of course we can handle it! Who do you take us for, the bumbling imbeciles you call interns?"

" Sorry 'bout that, Commissioner. 'Course we'll take it. 'N fact, thanks for giving it t' us," Lucy replied brightly.

Potty Prof. was still fuming as she dragged him to the Mystery Room by his navy blue coat.

…

The Prof. (Placid now) frowned as he read the file.

"No wonder no one else would take it."

"Why's thah?"

Alfendi ignored the question. "Meet Dominic Christians, a member of the local biker gang Silver Axles. They have been suspected of black market dealings before, but this is the first connection to murder."

He handed her the file. "The only mark on his body is a bruise below his left jawbone. The hit landed on the main artery, causing internal bleeding."

He shifted, now red hair falling in front of his eyes.

"This is genius," he announced darkly. "The victim himself wouldn't know he was dying until he was dead. In fact, if it weren't for the note, this might be classified as an accident."

"Ya sure it's not an accident?" Lucy asked, skimping through the file.

"Nope. Forensics went over his blood with a close eye. He's clean as can be." The Prof's hair faded to purple. "Besides, autopsy confirms the ruptured artery. It would take a bit less than twenty four hours for him to die of blood loss."

His hair changed again as he tapped his foot.

"Damn it girl! Haven't you read the file by now?"

"Now, now," Lucy chided, "there's nowt to curse at now. And ye wonder why I call you 'Potty Prof."

"Well?" He ran his hand through his hair like when he confronted criminals.

"Jus' holdin' out on ya. I've read it twice."

"Have you?" Placid asked. "If so, then what does the note on the body say?"

"'Let this be a lesson for those who don't listen.' It's typed and cut out, so we don't have handwriting."

"Good. What does this signify?"

"Well," Lucy began thoughtfully, "it means whoever left the note was the boss of Dominic."

"Anything else?" the Prof. inquired.

"Yeh, it means tha' if whoever left the note, if he o' she were the murderer, came back for the body."

"Very good. Do you want to guess the most likely suspect or should we examine some evidence first?"

"Nah. Look's like it's this Michal Hollins chap. The one who discovered the body. He's the only 'un with anything like a motive. Should we call him in?"

The Prof. sighed. "As you can see, we only have the note as evidence so far. I'm only 63.3% sure that he's the one who did it. There's no murder weapon, and the only sign of forced entry is the hole where-well, you'll see. Let's go to the Crime Scene Reconstruction."

"Wait." Lucy grabbed the Inspector's sleeve. "Aren't we gunna call the suspect?"

"I did, but he's not here yet. You can speak freely." He entered the reconstruction area.

The scene was a two story house, with minimal belongings. They were ignored for the moment; Lucy was too busy examining the wrecked door and the motorcycle lying on the smashed entry hall. She took out her notepad and started taking notes.

_Side door: Smashed to pieces. The door itself is locked, but the middle has been turned to splinters by a great force. The frame and the outermost pieces of the door still hang onto the frame. Most of the pieces are irregular, as expected, but one piece is cleanly broken._

_Wrecked motorcycle: Well cleaned and oiled prior to the crash. It has drastically scratched the wood floor._

_Wood floor: Scratched and smashed by the motorcycle. Some planks have swollen, and a puddle has evaporated here._

"Ah," Al noted, "I see you have noticed the crash."

"Aye. Who wouldn't?"

The Prof. handed Lucy another folder labeled 'Statements.'

"Which statement can tell us what happened?"

Lucy skimmed these files until she found a statement by Michal Hollins, the lieutenant of the gang.

_"About two days after I saw him last, I rushed over to his house. I rung the doorbell, but no one answered. Fearing the worst, I panicked, and rammed into the door with my motorcycle. The gang is really close, and there's no way any of us would drop contact without warning like that."_

"This 'un explains everything. He panicked after Dominic didn't pick up his phone, and smashed the door. There, he discovered the body. Somethin's wrong, though."

"And what is that?"

"There were a puddle of water on the ground. The stain in the wood and the bit of remain'n water proves that it's recent. However, there's too much to be spilled from a cup or somethin'. And it's been too dry for precipitation or dew for the whole week."

"Very good." Placid smiled. Lucy had come a long way from being tricked in the Hand Sandwich case. "Any other evidence that's amiss?"

"A certain shard of the door is perfectly straight on two of its sides. Mighty sus if you ask me,"

"Yes, that is suspicious. It's way too unlikely that the crash caused this piece to have such linear sides. This looks like the work of a water saw."

"A water saw?" Lucy inquired.

"Yeah." The Prof.'s hair brightened to a fiery red.

"How intelligent of him. The high-pressure stream of water cut through the wood cleanly, without having to risk using a saw. Some shards of wood might get caught on the blade, and shattering a window would be too obvious. Besides, there's always a chance of skin or blood or clothes being left behind. His only mistake was leaving the water behind. After breaking in, perhaps to leave the note, he crashed into the door to hide the previous damage to the wood. Now," he pushed Lucy toward the stairs, "let's examine the body."

"Wait!" Lucy cried, "Prof!"

Potty Prof. grinned into her ear. "Not so fun being pushed around, is it?"

She shrugged. "I don't mind it tha' much."

The Prof. pouted, upset that he had lost his leverage.

"We're at the death site. How did he die?"

"Internal bleeding," Lucy answered instantly. "Ruptured artery."

"What killed him?" His hair was fading.

Lucy examined the bruise. She looked around the room, and then ran around the house. After ten minutes of frantic searching, she bit her lip.

"I can't find it."

Placid Prof. smiled comfortingly. "You're overlooking something. Hold up two fingers."

She did, and held them against the bruise.

"You're right," she exclaimed. "It's the only weapon that could make that shape. Did forensics check for fingerprints?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, they found none. What does this signify?"

Lucy's eyes brightened. "The murderer was wearing gloves, probably riding gloves."

"Tell me Lucy, are there any signs of a struggle?"

"No sir."

The Prof. shifted, yellow eyes glinting. "Then we have a plausible theory. Ask the Commissioner to search Michal's house for a water saw. Bring him in while you're at it."

"Yes sir."

Potty Prof. grinned.

…

The pair went into the interrogation room fifteen minutes later. Michal Hollins was waiting for them, eyes puffy from crying.

The biker was bald, with a grey goatee. His eyes were an unremarkable shade of brown, and his stature could only be noted as average. He wore riding gloves and had a motorcycle helmet on the desk.

"I hope this's necessary. I haven't had proper time to grieve yet."

"We're very sorry," Placid Prof. said with a comforting smile. Per Lucy's request, Placid had emerged, if only to prevent Potty's rash rants from intimidating the suspect so much he clamped up. "Could you go over what happened one more time?"

"Yeah. Around twenty-four hours after I had last heard from Dominic, I called his home phone, his cell phone, everything. It's odd for an Axel to loose contact without warning for such a long time, so I panicked. I broke down the door with my motorcycle, but it was too late. Dominic was already dead."

Lucy spoke up. "What was the last thing to talked to Dominic about?"

Michal looked down. "I am such a loser. I cannot remember our last conversation."

"Oh really? How jammy*."

Michal narrowed his eyes. "I take medical marijuana. Any decent investigators would know that marijuana can cause memory loss. Any more questions, bitch?"

"Insult us again and I'll cut out your tongue."

Lucy bit back a curse. Without her noticing, Potty Prof. had emerged. This was quickly getting out of hand.

Michal stood up. "Isn't it against the rules for an inspector to threaten an innocent man?"

The red-haired professor snapped. "Innocent? You're the guiltiest man I've ever seen. You usually use contractions, but when you lie, you don't, just like other liars. You're defensive and can't meet our eyes. You're lying."

"That's not evidence enough to hold me here! I'm distressed; it's normal for me to feel sad and defensive after such a horrible tragedy. All of the Axles are family. You can't hold me."

"Au contraire," the Prof. purred. "We know what happened, Michal. You killed Dominic. After he should have been dead, you broke into his house to make sure, and leave your note. But it was obvious someone had broken in, so you wrecked the door with your motorcycle."

"Why would I do that? What does the door have to do with anything?"

Al grabbed a lock of hair like he did when he was stressed. "It couldn't be more obvious! You cut a hole in the door with a water saw-"

Michal cried out. "Not the water saw! I don't have one! Dominic was the one who owned one. Go and check!"

Lucy ran to the phone, frantically calling the Commissioner. Ten minutes later, she got an answer. Pursing her lips in dejection, she ran back into the interrogation room.

"He's right. The only water saw they found were in Dominic's garage, all fingerprints wiped. By law, we can't keep him here."

"Bullshit!" Potty Prof. stepped toward Michal, but Lucy grabbed his wrist.

"Enough!" she barked. She maneuvered herself so she stood between the Prof. and Michal and grabbed Al's ear. "Calm down Prof. I'm angry too, but we have to let him go."

Surprisingly, the Prof. calmed down, even though he didn't shift back into Placid.

"Leave," he growled.

Michal went. Alfendi's energy seemed to drain until his hair faded into purple. Change complete, the Prof. looked away in shame.

"I'm sorry, Lucy."

She smiled and put her hand on his arm. "Don' be. I wanted to do the same thing. Only you have the courage to be that radged**."

The inspector sighed wearily. "There's nothing we can do but scour the scene for more evidence, which will probably take all night. We're running low on tea. Can you get some?"

Lucy's smile widened. "Sure. I'll have to go to the grocery store, though. I'll be back in a jiff."

…

Lucy was walking to the store when she thought she heard the rev of a motorcycle. Paranoid after the biker case, she looked around. Seeing nothing, she relaxed, and continued to the store.

She cursed herself for not trusting her instincts when she felt a hand over her mouth and felt a needle plunge into her neck.

…

Two hours later, and Lucy still hadn't returned from the store. Inspector Alfendi was absorbed in combing through every speck of dust on the Reconstruction, but even still he acknowledged the fact that she had been gone for a time longer than should be necessary. He picked up his office phone to call her when it rang in his hand.

"Inspector Layton," he answered automatically.

"Perfect," Michal Hollins said on the other line.

Gone was Placid Prof, red hair now brushed the phone.

"What do you want," Potty Prof. growled.

"I have Baker. Bring me the silver chalice, the one in your evidence locker, and I'll let her go."

"Why should I care?"

"I'll kill her if you don't."

The Prof. had to fight to keep himself from changing personalities.

"But you're a grieving, innocent man," Al taunted. "You wouldn't hurt her."

Michal's tone darkened. "I killed Dominic because he refused to rob a valuable necklace from a woman living in poverty. I need the chalice to refund that missed opportunity. Don't take a risk you'll regret, Alfendi. I won't hesitate to kill her."

"Then you wouldn't get your chalice."

Potty Prof could hear the shrug in Michal's voice. "It's not that big of a deal. Come to the warehouse where Barbossa Sassinia was killed with the chalice in a half an hour, or she dies. And no telling anybody else about our little deal. I have cameras so numerous I'll know if you brought the police."

A pause. "You know, the office telephone conversations are recorded."

"Yes, but they aren't checked unless there's reason to. Don't act suspiciously. And hurry up. The clock is ticking."

The line went dead, but the Prof, now Placid, had already put the phone down.

_"This is the second time someone's used Lucy to lure me somewhere. There will be hell to pay_."

…

Half an hour later, Al cautiously entered the warehouse, chalice in pocket and gun in hand. A speaker spoke up.

"Put the gun down, Alfendi."

"So you can shoot me? Once you get the chalice, we become irrelevant."

"Hmm…" Michal mulled it over. "A good idea, but I won't need it. After today, Michal Hollins will be dead. So will the rest of the Silver Axels. This isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened, but we haven't killed so far, and we'll never need to. We have a sponser, who's willing to help us for a share of our profits."

The inspector remembered what Justin had said after confessing at Forbodum Castle.

_"We were trying to stop some criminals, before they got too powerful_."

Is this what he meant?

Michal's voice pulled him back into reality.

"If you want the little bitch back, you'll have to trust me. Drop the weapon."

Sighing, the Prof. lowered his gun to the floor. "Take me to her."

"Sure." The voice was no longer on a speaker, but announced from across the dark warehouse. "This way, Inspector."

Cautiously, the Prof. followed the voice, which continued in a conversational tone.

"I don't understand how you can take her. Feisty woman are no fun. It took quite a lot to shut that one up. I should have used a more potent drug."

A light turned on, almost a spotlight, showing DC Baker.

Lucy was a mess. Both of her eyes were black, and her breathing was ragged. There was also a large bruise on her cheekbone and a large hole in her pants, showing another purple bruise on her calf. After checking her vital pressure points to make sure she wasn't dying of internal bleeding like Dominic did, Al turned around. Michal was pointing a gun at his head.

"Now, set down the chalice."

He did, stepping forward to put it at Hollins's feet.

"Turn your pockets inside out."

Alfendi's hair turned red, but he reached into his pocket. In the same motion, he punched Michal in the side of the head. The man's eyes went unfocused, and he dropped like a stone.

Without stopping for breath, Potty Prof. grabbed some extra lining from his coat pocket and wrapped it around his hand. Alfendi took a syringe from his pocket, carefully put it into Michal's hand, injected the man with the drug, and let the hand go slack, shattering the syringe. The mixture of heroin and the memory wiping dug would help cover his tracks. He then drew a knife form his other pocket and forcefully opened Hollins's mouth.

With careful precision, he cut out the man's tongue.

While he wiped his own fingerprints off the knife and planted Michal's own fingerprints, the Prof. smirked and muttered, "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court***."

After suitably covering his tracks and calling Scotland Yard, Potty Prof. faded and Placid Prof. took his place.

"You insulted us again."

He walked over to the chair where Lucy sat and undid the ropes. Delicately, he dressed her wounds and waited for the police to show up.

"_Don't tell her_," Alfendi thought to himself. "_This is our little secret._"

*** 'Jammy' is Yorkshire slang for 'lucky'**

**** 'Radged' is Yorkshire slang for 'angry' **

*****This is the British equivalent to America's Miranda Rights, which are: 'You have a right to be silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law (etc.).' **

**I tried my best with Lucy's accent, I really did. But it's nowhere near good. Don't let that distract you from the story!**

**Disclaimer: the characters are not mine, and the medical events in the story are probably not accurate. I am not a doctor.**


End file.
